#rip theo

[vixlenxe]

When one of your classes is red mage, & someone is terrified of mages.

[killyourgodsrpg]

prophets and their god: relationships (take 6)

heimdall: *carrying Astra bridal-style and talking calmly with her*

war: *sprints past carrying Theodora over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes; they're both screaming

[velvet-navy]

Theodore, are you the one who ate all of Elizabeth’s flan this time?

My muse has to tell nothing but the truth for 10 asks. - 2/10

"Yes.. b-but I had no idea that it was Elizabeth's flan..!" He's going to regret this.

[notapackanimal]

theo: *seeing gifs of stiles and malia kissing on the dash* theo: *cries himself back to hell*

[deathstrcnded-blog]

HE SITS BENEATH A TREE, with pick between his teeth and blood at the back of his throat. A dangerous feat, this, to dance from shadow to shadow, to parry with the sunlight in such close quarters; but he simply cannot help himself from settling here in the shade, as if the sun just beyond his outstretched feet would not singe him. The sun is beginning to dip, and here in the schoolyard the halfhearted subject of conversation is the WEST - and Theo cannot help but let out a chuckle at every inaccuracy, at each place mispronounced. It is a benefit of his age, this, as well as his daring; how he’d love to saunter to the front of the dwindling group of learners and correct each fallacy fed to them like a willing meal. But, still, entertainment is entertainment. 

And Theo senses he is not alone in this, for the shadow at his shoulder grows by the height of a head. 

“ Not quite as glamorous as they’d like to make it seem, “ he chuckles, “ But at least he pronounced the horse’s name right. “

[maiamaiden]

has anyone pointed out that theo is missing too or does nobody care about him

[theodore-quinn]

Text: Aleja → Theo

Aleja: So are you always that flexible or was it just the heels?

Theo: OH GOD. i regret tipsy theo's life choices but lets just blame the heels & pretend it isn't anything to do with years of starring in rocky horror picture show,,

[kateee-love]

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.  Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead, Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.  He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now: put out every one; Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun; Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood. For nothing now can ever come to any good. W.H. Auden